During my adventures in(f)unemployment I have had to become very humble. I have been eating pride like I used to eat sushi pre-broke days. Mmmm sushi, miss that. Now, I never was making 6 figures living like Jorge y Louisa on the Eastside, but life was fairly comfortable. One thing I used to have that I valued was health insurance. Yup, good ol’ coverage. Now, I must now go to the community health clinic. Yes, “da clinic”. Good times. I even wrote a poem about an extremely frustrating clinic day (patient…) I hate the waiting and sometimes disorganization but there are actually are some great things about “da clinic” I go to:

It is free for me. I have no money, so free is a wonderful thing. Free makes me happy. Free is my friend. Me and free go waaaaaaay back.

The doctors really care. I actually have gotten better care for a chronic illness that I have than I did going to regular doctors. My current doctor finds creative ways for me to get free or reduced priced medications, hooked me up with specialists that do pro-bono work, and actually calls me periodically to check up on me. Maybe I lucked up on this doctor, but after seeing scores of doctors in the private sector I have never had anything remotely as wonderful.

Even for people that have to pay they still will see you whether you have a dime or not, or how much you owe. The same applies to the pharmacy.

In these days of health-care inadequacy, it is nice to see a sparkle of light in “da clinic” experience. These days, I’ll take my light how I can get it… sigh…